


Another Nightmare

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [383]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Grief, Nightmares, Supportive Dean, hurt/comort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Sam has a lot of grief-induced nightmares.





	

* * *

Sam wakes up from another nightmare. He has practice with nightmares now, waking up quietly and keeping himself still. Sharing a bed with Jess had taught him that, because he hadn’t wanted to ever disturb her with his stupid nightmares he couldn’t tell her about anyways.

Sam doesn’t know if all his careful training is falling apart or if Dean just _knows_ , but either way, it’s clear from the get-go that Dean is aware of what happened. He opens his eyes and Dean is looming over him, reaching a hand for his shoulder.

Sam closes his eyes again, breathes deep once, twice, trying to calm himself down. Just a dream, a nightmare, it’s already happened and there’s nothing he can do now, nothing except see it again and again and again. 

“You okay?” Dean asks. Sam nods, eyes still shut tight. “Sam–”

He sounds concerned, and it’s touching and unwanted at once.  Sam doesn’t want to talk about it, rather forget for an hour or two, but Dean is there and he’s waiting.

“Just…keep seeing it,” Sam mutters quietly. He wants to turn into the pillow and hide, but Dean’s hand keeps him where he is. “The…the fire, what it did to her…keep seeing it.”

Dean’s hand squeezes lightly. “You wanna…wanna talk about it?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Sam has the sudden and inappropriate desire to laugh, given how weird those words sound coming from his brother. “No,” he says.

“You sure?” Dean asks.

Sam opens his eyes to look at Dean, really look at him, and he hasn’t seen him this earnest in a while. “I just…miss her,” he says, lamely.

“I know,” Dean says, voice scratchy. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand still on Sam’s shoulder. “Tell me ‘bout her. The…the good things.”

It takes Sam a few minutes to get started, to find the words for the way she liked to bake or the way she bit her pen caps, or her smile or her determination or her brilliance or any of the rest, but once he finds the words, they don’t stop coming.

Neither of them sleep that night, but nevertheless, Sam starts the next day feeling better than he has in a long time.


End file.
